Harry remained in the Hospital Wing for the next five days, with Hermione giving him piles of books, and Ron not even visiting him. It was kind of depressing in a way. From what Hermione had told him, Malfoy still hadn't woken up, and his condition seemed to be getting worse.
"Worse? How?" Harry asked, panicking. Hermione sighed sadly.
"It seems that you did have a lot of power after all," she said. He glanced at her cheek which was still bright red, and felt a barrel load of guilt building in the pit of his stomach.
He slowly walked into the Common Room, aware that everyone was staring at him. Most of them were frowning, and most of the ones that weren't frowning looked petrified. Hermione smiled bravely at him.
"Hi Harry, good to see you out," she said, loudly, so that everyone could hear her. He smiled.
"Thanks," he paused, "Where's Ron?" Hermione looked unconcerned.
"Oh, he went out, received a letter or something," she mumbled vaguely.
Harry and Hermione occupied themselves over the next three hours by doing homework, and when the last person trailed up to their bed, Hermione slammed down her quill. Harry jumped in surprise.
"Now, we can talk," she said. Harry frowned.
"Talk about what?" he asked, scribbling out a word on his parchment.
"You know what," Hermione replied coolly. She grabbed hold of Harry's quill, wrenched it out of his firm grip, and threw it aside.
"You told me everything yesterday," Harry muttered.
"I told you everything I knew," Hermione corrected, "So, now you can tell me it from your point of view." Harry sighed exasperatedly.
"Fine. We went down for our food, Malfoy came over, he was being a git, the end," Harry murmured dully. It was Hermione's turn to act exasperated.
"Harry, pay attention, Ron might have given up on you, but I have more sense than that!" she snapped. Harry surveyed her through his glasses.
"What do you mean 'Ron may have given up on you, but I have more sense than that'?" he demanded. Hermione looked slightly flustered.
"It's nothing,"
"Tell me Hermione,"
"Fine, I don't think that he meant it, he was a bit out of it, but last night he said that you had finally lost the plot and that you were being a complete moron by trying to kill him with the same curse that killed your parents," she said, looking at her hands. Harry scowled at the floor.
"That little b-
"Harry, calling him names won't help! I think he was just annoyed, he said that he would never have reacted like that, and that Malfoy bad mouths his parents all the time. He said that the Daily Prophet was right, he said that you are a stupid attention seeking little boy," Hermione said, now wringing her hands firmly.
"So, you and him have been having a nice cosy chat, about whether or not I will turn into the next Voldermort have you?" he said hotly, his voice rising.
"No, actually I told him that it wasn't your fault and that he was being stupid if he was blaming you at a time like this. I do wish you'd stop taking your anger out on me Harry!" she replied calmly. Harry felt ashamed.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"That's quite alright!" she said, beaming warmly. He didn't know why, but Harry suddenly burst into tears. Hermione looked completely taken aback, but stood up, went over to him and hugged him.
"It's not fair," Harry sobbed, his voice muffled through Hermione's robes, "I didn't mean to do that spell! I didn't mean to hit you! I just keep doing everything wrong, and there is no one in this castle that believes a single word that comes out of my mouth, except for you!" Hermione blushed.
"I doubt I am the only one," she whispered consolingly.
"Why am I such a moron? I hate Malfoy, but I tried to kill him! And what's more, I don't even remember it! Hermione, I am going mad," he cried. Hermione sighed. Harry pulled away from her, to see that she too was crying.
"I am too Harry," she said sadly. Harry didn't question her, but instead stared at her thoroughly.
It was then that his feelings changed. He took in her soft curls, bouncing on her shoulders, he took in her bright, starry eyes, he took in her comforting talk and he realised that all the time, he had though of Hermione as more than just a friend.
He shook his head and went over to the fire, sitting in the squashy two piece sofa. Hermione gingerly sat next to him.
"Harry?" she said. Harry looked at her, and she looked back at him. He leaned towards her slowly, aware of the fact that their legs were touching, and before he knew it, his lips came to rest on hers, bumping slightly. He could feel Hermione tense up, but then slowly uncoil; she wrapped her arm around his neck. Both of them were still crying, and Harry felt one of her tears roll down his own cheek, colliding with his own. He felt at peace. At peace with him, with what happened, with everything. He slowly pulled back.
"What just happened?" he asked, half talking to him.
"You kissed me," Hermione whispered gently.
"You kissed me back," Harry said immediately, turning to her, she attempted a smile.
"Harry, I have had deep feelings for you ever since we first met," she said, Harry felt himself blush deeply; "I know that Ron's always been an insensitive twit, but you…you were always different." She reached out and rested his hand on his cheek.
"This is wrong," Harry said, trying feebly to prise her off of him.
"How?" Hermione asked her eyes in desperation.
"We're best friends Hermione," Harry said, turning to face the fire. The dancing flames reminded him of Hermione's curls.
"Tell me that you don't feel the same, and I will leave," she said. Harry looked into her eyes, and opened his mouth to say it, but he found he couldn't. Hermione kissed him on his wet cheek, and he reacted, giving her a long kiss, and wrapping his arms round her waist.
He didn't know how long they were there sitting, kissing. He didn't even notice the sound of the door creaking open. He heard a voice, but still didn't pull away from Hermione's comforting arms.
"He's dead," he heard Ron mutter, "Dead, dead, dead." Harry felt Hermione pause, and they lay motionless. Ron was pacing up and down, and they could both hear him crying.
"It's my entire fault, and now Hermione will have told Harry what I said, and I did mean it, no I didn't…he's dead!" he rambled. Harry froze completely. Malfoy was dead, he was a murderer. He closed his eyes, wanting to turn back time, wondering why he ever showed his true feelings for Hermione. He could hear Ron's feet pause, and a long, sharp intake of breath. Hermione gripped Harry tightly, and he could hear her whispering very, very softly under her breath, it sounded as if she was praying. But it was all too late.
"Hermione, what the HELL are you doing?" Ron suddenly shouted. Hermione jumped up, and burst into tears. Ron looked shocked. He walked over to the squashy chair where Harry was lying, trying to keep his face hidden from view.
"I don't know what you are playing at," he pulled on Harry's shoulder, and pulled him round to face him. His hand dropped to his side. He looked from Harry to Hermione and back again.
"No," he said flatly. Hermione walked over to him.
"Ron?" she whispered. He stared at her as if he had only just noticed she was there.
"I thought I could come to you two for comfort…and I…then you…" he went very pale. Harry stood up, and he was angry, for a reason he couldn't explain.
"What's up Ron, have you got a problem? Just 'cos I killed Malfoy, and now I am kissing my best friend, that's not bad, is it?" Harry said his voice in controlled calm. Ron looked disgusted, and turned to Hermione.
"He killed Malfoy? Malfoy's really dead?" he asked. Hermione looked at Ron as if he were mad.
"Ron, are you alright?" she asked.
"Am I alright? AM I ALRIGHT? OF COURSE I'M NOT ALRIGHT!" he yelled. Harry rolled his eyes scornfully. Hermione looked positively petrified.
"Ron, you were the one who was saying Malfoy was dead," she mumbled timidly. Ron stared at her, and laughed. He looked like a lunatic, his hair bright red, his cheeks pale but his ears scarlet, Harry stooped frowning at him, and looked at Hermione.
"Ron? Who's dead?" he asked, his voice almost failing him. Ron looked up and stopped mid laugh.
"You should know, I wouldn't be surprised if it was you who killed him!" Ron spat scornfully. Harry snarled at him, and Hermione just stood next to Harry, blinking rapidly.
"Ron, who is dead," she asked pleadingly.
"My Dad," Ron mumbled, a tear escaped him, and Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth.
"Oh Ron!" she squeaked. She hurried over to him, and put an arm round his shoulder. Again, Harry felt ashamed and guilty.
"How?" he asked. Ron frowned and pulled himself away from Hermione, and sat down. Harry and Hermione sat down timidly next to him. Ron sighed heavily.
"He was doing a job for the Order-
"The Order?" Harry repeated, "But, but I thought that there was no need for the Order anymore. Dumbledore said at the end of last year that it was all over, the Ministry believed us then, didn't they?" Hermione looked at Harry.
"You need to start reading The Daily Prophet Harry; they are saying that Voldermort is planning a surprise attack on any Muggles or half breeds, that and any wizards who get in the way or protest," she explained, she let out a sad little sigh.
"So, what was your Dad doing then? Was it Voldermort who killed him?" Harry demanded.
Ron started flicking loose bits of chair stuffing into the fire.
"I was going to tell you that, but you seemed more interested in the Order," Ron muttered, "Anyway, as I was saying…Dad was doing a spare job for the Order, he had to go and guard some magical elixir, that stops death or whatever, they wont tell me where he was though, they think it is too dangerous me knowing. He was there and he went up to go and have a quick look round, and he couldn't see anyone there, so he went back and he fell asleep. That's all they know, I mean; you can't ask someone who's dead to tell you how they died, can you? Unless they're a ghost of course, that's completely different-
"So, you don't know how he died?" Harry cut in, Hermione looked at Ron inquisitively.
"Well, from what the Healers said, well, it almost seems he died of fright, but they can't be sure. Mum is going out of her mind, and now Percy has come back, after hearing the news, but Mum wants nothing to do with him, she said it's his entire fault. I suppose Charlie and Bill will know by now, Fred and George just apparated back home, they're with Mum now," he mumbled, his voice growing weaker at every word. Hermione looked worried.
"But, what about Ginny?" she asked frantically. Ron looked up sleepily.
"Ginny?" Ron repeated slowly, "Ginny wasn't at home."
"You mean she doesn't know?" Hermione screeched.
"Of course she knows," Ron said, Hermione relaxed, "She wasn't at home when I was there, she went with my Great Aunt Josie, to see the Healers."
"I am so sorry Ron," Harry said humbly. Ron snorted.
"Sure you are," he spat.
"In case you had forgotten, I know exactly what it's like to have someone you love dead! Mum, Dad, Sirius! Don't act like you're all special, thinking you're the only one who knows what it feels like!" Harry shouted. For once, Ron didn't act embarrassed, and he didn't blush like a fool, he just glared at Harry.
"How could I possibly forget, Harry?" he asked softly. Hermione paused.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry exploded.
"Your face is always in the Prophet, you're always being talked about; always centre of attention…" he put on a mimicking voice, "Ooh, look at me! I'm Harry Potter, and everyone loves me because I have a scar! Feel sorry for me, don't take notice that I always go against the law, just remember who I am, and you HAVE to feel sorry for ME because I'M Harry Potter, the little boy wonder!" Ron screamed. There was a complete silence. Hermione looked as though she had been struck by lightening. She looked at Harry's face; still tear streamed, but red with anger.
"He didn't mean it Harry," she whispered consolingly.
"Of course I meant it," Ron said.
"You're just jealous," Harry said, smirking, "Jealous because the only chance you will have to get onto a paper is on a comedy page, because you and your family are a JOKE!" Harry shot back.
There was a small silence, until Harry and Ron both flew at each other, at exactly the same time. He didn't have time to reach for his wand, but hit Ron squarely in what he thought to be his jaw. He felt a sharp pain as Ron started clawing Harry's scar with his fingers, and his shoe kicked him in the shin, and then Harry stopped trying to aim, but kicked and punched as hard as he could ever remember doing before. It was clear that Harry was doing exactly the same. Hermione was crying hysterically, and Harry could feel her hands trying to pull him off. Eventually she succeeded and lifted Harry off the floor. He was panting heavily, but smirked when he saw Ron's battered face. He was sporting a swollen eye and a split lip, and when he tried to stand up he hobbled slightly. Hermione was frowning at both of them; she opened her mouth to start ranting at them, but instead screamed.
"Hermione?" Harry asked concernedly. She pointed at the fire, and both Harry and Ron looked at the same time, and they both jumped.
"Professor McGonagall? What are you doing?" Hermione asked, once she had stopped shaking.
"I was going to ask the same thing," she replied sternly, "You three are making a racket, and if I hear another sound, you will all be in detention," she turned to Ron, "My deepest sympathies to you and your family." Harry was confused.
"Why did you come via fire to tell us that?" he asked. Professor McGonagall stared at him.
"I didn't," said her head, "I came to tell you that the Headmaster wishes to see you straight away, and he says that you should have come immediately after you got out of the Hospital Wing! Granger, Weasley, off to bed, Potter, make your way to the Headmaster." There was a small pop and her head disappeared. Harry stared at the fire. He knew that this was it. He was about to be expelled.